


Fire Without a Spark

by bitboozy



Series: Start a Fire [1]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Series Two, spoilers for 2x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-18 05:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitboozy/pseuds/bitboozy
Summary: In which series two ends a little differently. Alec gets his hug and then some.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Series: Start a Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567420
Comments: 65
Kudos: 251





	Fire Without a Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Just had to get this one out.

Ellie stands outside the door of the little blue chalet for a moment before letting herself in. She knocks first, to be fair, but does not wait for an answer. She can hear a rustling from the bedroom – if you can call it a bedroom.

“Hardy?”

Alec pops his head out. “Oh.”

“Wasn’t sure I’d catch you.”

He steps out into the main room, hands in his pockets. He seems to be studying her face, so she looks away.

“Just packin’ up,” he says nonchalantly. “Not much to pack, to be fair. Everythin’ is rented.”

She nods, still avoiding his gaze, turning away until her eye catches the wall of evidence they’d crafted to the left of her.

Alec clocks it too, as if he’d entirely forgotten it was there. “Ought to take that down, I s’pose.”

“Mostly my doing,” Ellie admits.

She walks over to the wall and gives it one last once-over. Then takes down a photo of Pippa. Slowly, Alec walks over to stand beside her. She takes another photo down.

“Miller, you don’t have to – “

“You make a mess, you clean it up,” Ellie says succinctly, reaching for another photo. “’s what I tell my kids.”

He takes down a couple of the receipts tacked to the wall, remembering her brilliant discovery. He starts to smile, but quickly thwarts it.

“How’s that work on wee Fred?”

Ellie looks over at him with surprise. He frowns back at her. “Oh, _what_.”

“You remembered his name.”

Alec all but rolls his eyes. “I know his name, Miller.”

She reaches to take down the map so she doesn’t have to respond. He helps her with the other side.

“There,” she says. “Last remnants gone. But for a few holes in the wall.”

She can feel his eyes burning into her, so she keeps looking at the wall. They stand there uncomfortably for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

Then Alec clears his throat and gestures to the couch. “You want to, um. Stay a minute?”

She looks at the couch and blinks. “Yeah, all right.”

“You could, um.” He gestures to her bright orange coat.

A brief flicker of confusion in her eyes gives way to a nod. She unzips her coat and takes it off. Underneath she has on her white linen top, he recognizes it as the same one she wore their first trip to Sandbrook. She lays the coat on the chair, then sits down on the couch, hands in her lap. He nods to no one, looks around at no one, then moves to beside her, albeit several inches apart.

“So where’re you gonna go?” Ellie asks.

“Erm, close to Daisy,” Alec replies. “Need to be near my daughter.”

She nods tightly. “Quite right.”

They don’t look at each other. Both their hands rest on the couch beside them. Almost imperceptibly, each hand begins very slowly inching toward the other. Alec tentatively hooks his pinky finger to hers. Still, they don’t turn their heads.

“And you three will, um…get on all right?” He asks

“’Course we will,” she replies, and offers him no more.

Her ring finger hooks to his.

“Maybe try to get your old job back?”

Ellie nods. “Maybe.”

His middle finger hooks to hers.

“You’ll get on,” Alec says. “Know you will.”

His hand moves to cover hers entirely. Their fingers interlace as if they’re made to.

“Miller, I – “

She stands suddenly, tearing their hands apart. “Have you called your taxi yet?”

He shakes his head, feeling like he’s experiencing whiplash. He stands and faces her. “Not yet.”

“Well.” She holds her hand out.

He blinks at her. “Handshake?”

“Yeah, not hugging you.”

He makes no move to meet her hand. “You gonna be happy with that?”

She meets his gaze dead on. Then quickly averts her eyes.

He sighs heavily. “_Miller_, don’t be – “

Ellie walks right to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head against her shoulder. His arms encircle her back quite naturally. She closes her eyes and her breathing begins to steady. His too. Almost like they’re in sync. She’d be embarrassed about her sudden outpouring of affection if she wasn't so unbelievably _relaxed_. Her thoughts slow down, her whole body begins to still. His chin is resting atop her head and she listens to his heartbeat.

Time passes and she has no idea how long they’ve been like this.

“Miller.” His gruff Scottish brogue interrupts her perfect stillness. She doesn’t respond. “Have you, um. Do you…” He takes a breath. “How long’s it been since you…slept, really.”

Her eyes pop open and her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Dunno. While, probably.”

“This is…we could…”

Frustrated, she pulls back from him to meet his gaze. But she immediately feels the loss of him and can see that he feels the same about the loss of her.

“Spit it out, Hardy.”

“Could go lay down,” he says quickly, and is clearly mortified by the request. He clears his throat again. “I mean I, um. Felt like I could have…you know. Fallen asleep. Just now. And I thought maybe _you_…”

“All right,” she replies softly.

“All right?"

She nods. He nods back. They stand there.

“Right, then.” He snaps to it. “Uh…” He leads her awkwardly into the tiny bedroom, where there is a twin bed, all made up. “Sorry if this is…” 

“It’s fine,” she says tersely. “Just…you know.”

He slips off his shoes. She does the same.

“I’ll just…” He moves onto the bed, crawling back to the far side against the wall, and lies on his side.

Ellie takes a breath. It’s unquestionably bizarre, the idea of getting into bed next to Alec Hardy. Somehow odder this time, because they're actually choosing to do so. But what she wouldn’t give for even a few hours’ sleep…

Very tentatively, she gets into bed beside him, her back to him, not quite touching, but close enough. Then she feels an arm drape over her. 

“…This all right?”

She nods. And she’s asleep before she has even has time to think about how weird it is.

*

When Ellie’s eyes flutter open, some indeterminate time later, the two of them are much closer to each other than before.

His body is flush against hers. His arm is no longer noncommittally draped over her, but _holding _her. His face – she can tell by the feeling of his breath on her neck – is dangerously close to her hair.

This is the most they’ve ever touched. By far. Outside of the odd awkward handshake and accidental brushing of limbs…there’s been nothing. To be fair, she’s not let anyone besides her children touch her since Joe’s arrest.

Despite the fact that she’s just slept better than she has in months, even if only for a few hours, her heart rate is beginning to pick up as her body registers the closeness of him.

Tentatively, she covers his hand with hers and feels him shift even closer to her. She has no idea if he’s awake. She waits a moment, then tangles their fingers together again. Somehow, the first time, this had worked as a catalyst. It had served to make clear to both of them, without saying a word, that there was an intimacy between them that neither was willing to admit to out loud, but both knew well that it was there.

Alec reciprocates in the tangling. It’s not proof he’s awake, exactly, but it feels a lot like progress. His thumb is lightly rubbing over her thumb. Taking the lead again, Ellie begins experimentally sliding his hand around her middle, slowly, from one side of her ribcage to the other. Then waits to see what he’ll do.

Still clasped with hers, his hand now seems to be attempting to grasp at her shirt. Suddenly she feels a bit _flushed_, a vague heat seeping out of her pores. He’s not making any moves beyond that, just grasping it and letting it go. Grasping it and letting it go. Like a child. So how on earth is it so arousing?

He’s still at least half if not wholly asleep. She’s certain of it. 

She slides their hands downward, and then slips them underneath the hem of her top, placing his hand flat on the smooth skin of her stomach. She waits to feel him stiffen, flinch, or even pull away. But none of those things happen. He seems to relax even more into her.

She extricates her hand from his and very slowly pulls it away, testing to see if he’ll pull his away too. He doesn’t.

It’s incredible, this feeling, skin to skin, the heat of his hand matching the heat emanating from her whole body. She can already feel his skin is rough and calloused yet his fingers are lithe and gentle.

Ellie realizes she’s been holding her breath and exhales heavily. His hand rises and falls with her diaphragm, but doesn’t flinch.

“Hardy,” she whispers.

There’s a short beat of silence, a clearing of his throat, and then almost right against her ear there’s a “_Miller_,” matching her challenging tone.

Now that they have each confirmed the other is indeed awake, a silence follows. Ellie works to keep her breathing steady, knowing he can feel it acutely.

Alec’s thumb begins to trace circles on her skin. Her breathing grows a bit heavier.

It feels like a green light. His thumb to her, her breath to him.

Silent communication is all they have.

Emboldened, Ellie reaches for his hand again and begins to slowly guide it upwards. Over her belly button, past her ribcage, finally landing on her left breast. She holds it there for a moment, and his breathing begins to match hers, quickened with anticipation and vague uncertainty.

He moves a leg forward and slips it in between hers, continuing to test the waters. She slides her foot up a bit, pushing up his trouser leg. He grinds into her then, probably unconsciously, maybe he thinks this is a dream. Maybe this is a dream he’s had before. It’s a dream _she’s_ had before, though she hadn’t exactly welcomed it then.

She has to make it clear that this is, in fact, reality.

“Go on,” she says quietly. For all their constant squabbling, she somehow knows he’ll understand her.

And he does. He squeezes her breast once. She nods. “Uh huh.”

Then slips his hand into her bra and her heart rate shoots through the roof. She can’t imagine how _his_ is doing. He begins kneading her breast, slowly, methodically, almost rhythmically.

“Miller,” he whispers again, into the crook of her neck.

He still thinks it’s a dream. She can tell.

With more practiced deftness than she even realized she _had_, Ellie reaches down and unfastens her trousers, then pulls them off in one swift movement. Alec’s hand stops its ministrations. She feels his breath catch in his throat.

He’s awake _now._

And all at once, just like that, she’s _nervous_. What if he doesn’t actually want her? What if it’s too much? What if he’s been imagining she’s _Tess_ all this time?

Not to mention the fact that she’s scarcely been touched in six months. No one has laid eyes on her naked body in six months. She herself has barely looked at it. 

But it’s Hardy.

He’s watched her dry heave and held her baby and followed her to her therapy appointments. He makes her dinner when he can tell she hasn’t eaten. He’s started keeping chocolate biscuits in the cupboard for her. He’s seen her cry more times than she can count. Or wants to count.

And more than that, he helps her sleep. She’s slept more soundly in his arms this afternoon than she can remember doing in the recent past.

In his arms.

In Alec Hardy’s arms.

Hell, they’ve come _this _far.

Taking a deep breath, she turns onto her back. His eyes widen, clearly surprised that she’s broken their unspoken rule of not looking at each other. His hand is still on her breast and now he’s confronted by it. He can no longer pretend it isn’t happening.

Ellie looks up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. Uncertain, but not afraid. Brave. His own boldness, though less than hers, allows him to rake his eyes over her body. From the openness of her expression to his hand under her shirt and inside her bra, down to the smooth skin of her stomach that’s exposed. Her knickers – not particularly sexy ones, but sexy enough by default. Her short but shapely bare legs. Her bare feet against his.

How they’ve gone so quickly from her not letting him touch her to…by far the most intimate moment he’s had in years…is entirely beyond him. 

He’s thought about it. It’s hard to deny, even for someone frequently in denial. He’s wanted to touch her for a long time. _Tried_ to touch her more than once. More than he normally would after being rebuffed. But he can’t help it. She doesn’t _want_ to be touched, but he can feel that she needs to be. So it happens sometimes as he drifts to sleep, when he’s lucky enough to drift to sleep. It _helps_ him sleep, frankly. Imagining his hands on her skin. Her warm body against his. The smell of her hair.

Not that he’s noticed. Not that he has _any _idea what her shampoo smells like. Never.

Ellie bites her lip with slight apprehension and it draws him out of his reverie. She’s waiting for him.

He slides his hand down, away from her breast, down past her belly button and then back up again. Back and forth. Maybe to comfort her, maybe to comfort himself, maybe just to feel her. Maybe he’s stalling. But god she feels good.

She’s still just watching him, searching his face for signs of what he wants, trying to predict the future. His eyes are on the rise and fall of her chest as he runs his hand up and down her body. It’s almost like he’s trying to lull them both back to sleep, but for the desire in his eyes.

Finally she reaches for the hair at the back of his head and yanks it, forcing him to look at her.

“Fuck’s sake, Hardy.”

Impossible to discern how she could have known it, but it turns out that is _exactly_ the kind of energy he needed.

He lurches down and kisses her, hard, immediately parting her lips with his tongue. His arms circle around her, pulling her against him, his tongue exploring her mouth like it’s both his first _and_ last chance to do so. Her hands stay in his hair and she’s pulling it again, this time for a very different reason. They’re both panting into each other’s mouths breathlessly, and Ellie fears he may try to stick his tongue all the way down her throat. It’s like she’s _unleashed_ something inside him, a ferocity she’s never seen before. She can’t even remember the last time she’s been kissed like this and she doesn’t want to try. 

He moves his hands underneath her top, his fingers pressing into her skin insistently as they trail up her spine. She throws a leg over his hip and then hooks her foot around his thigh. He elicits a growl that sends shivers up and down said spine, but his lips never part from hers. Until finally she places her hands on his chest and pushes him back just enough to separate them. Their chests are both heaving as they catch their breath, staring at each other with total astonishment, as if they cannot _believe _what they are doing.

They search each other’s eyes for signs of hesitation or regret. In the same moment, Ellie clocks a distinct tightness in his trousers, which gives him away. She smiles. Alec is nearly taken aback by it. She hardly ever smiles these days. And this smile is _wicked_ and full of pure delight. His trousers become even tighter. Ellie uses the leg around his hip to pull him even closer and grind against him.

“_Miller_,” he growls, knowing he’s losing control. It’s so hard for him to accept a loss of control of any kind.

She raises an eyebrow, gaze unwavering and locked with his. “We’ve come _this_ far.”

His lips immediately go for hers again and he moves on top of her, rubbing his hardness between her legs. She gasps into his mouth and he takes the opportunity to nip at her bottom lip, holding it between his teeth until she looks right at him, then letting it go with a smug almost smile. Almost.

She teases him, bringing her lips close to his and then abruptly pulling away. Several times in a row until he’s scowling at her, and it feels right. It feels like _them_.

In response, his arms fly out from his sides and pulls her hands over her head. He presses his own hands into them, holding them down. He’s got her now. And he _does_ smile. Triumphantly. He curls his fingers into hers, and if either of them were paying attention they’d see how their interlocked fingers betray an intimacy that their current boxing match is trying to conceal. He teases _her_ now, having disarmed her, then runs his tongue over her lips. She’s tempted to bite it but resists.

Then, instead of continuing to kiss her, he bows his head and burrows into her neck, sucking at her pulse point. At the same time, he rubs against her, finding a rhythm, and her eyes start to roll back into her head. He’s got her whimpering with an incredible _yearning_ and he’s not even taken off his trousers yet. She’s desperate to get them off him but he’s got her hands pinned to the mattress. 

Ellie feels him bite at her neck and she gasps. Joe never bit her, not like this. She can’t hide the _thrill_ all over her face when he lifts his head to look at her. While he’s distracted by her expression, she retaliates by lurching up and biting his bottom lip. The second she lets it go, his tongue is in her mouth again and he’s grinding against her so intensely that she’s afraid they’ll both come before they even _touch _each other. She’d never imagined he could be so _passionate_. Intense, yes, he’s always been intense, but to have that intensity focused on your body is…intoxicating. And potentially dangerous.

“Hardy.” It comes out like gibberish because he’s got her lips otherwise engaged, so she says it again. “_Hardy_.”

He stops. Looks at her. Expectant.

“Trousers off,” she demands.

He looks down sheepishly. “Right.”

Alec moves off her and stumbles from the bed to the floor, his hands scrambling to divest himself of his clothing, all without removing his eyes from her. She sits up and swings her legs over the edge of the bed to help him. Though she isn’t much help.

He gets his belt off and she carefully pulls down the zipper. He groans as her hands caress him in the process. Then she yanks the trousers down and he quickly kicks them off. He then immediately leans forward to reattach their lips, taking her face in his hands. The intimacy of it, of holding her face this way, startles him and he pulls back suddenly.

“Is this – um. Are we – “

She grabs him by the shirt and pulls him his lips back to hers. “Shut up.”

He acquiesces, reaching for the hem of her top and pulling it up over her head. As she fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, his eyes fall to her breasts, barely contained by her simple white bra, and he falls to his knees. She’s startled at first – it feels like such a reverent gesture, worshipful even – but then his face is pressed into the valley between her breasts and he’s groaning with such unbridled pleasure, as if for once he isn’t filtering himself. She pushes the unbuttoned shirt down his arms and he shrugs it off quickly.

His face still buried in her chest, he reaches up and unhooks the clasp of her bra. As if falls down and off her, he barely takes a moment to drink them in before his mouth is on one, sucking on it, and it’s incredibly clear to Ellie that he’s wanted to do exactly this for quite some time.

Her hands slide down his back, feeling the contour of each muscle – he was toned once, if not now, she can tell – and her nails drag along his skin on their way up again.

He stands halfway up, bent over and sucking a mark into the side of her breast, and pushes her back down onto the bed, moving on top of her again. Hovering over her now, both of them clad in only their pants, Alec takes a moment to rake his eyes over her body appreciatively, panting.

“Miller,” he breathes out, and she can’t quite decipher his tone this time. There’s a meaning behind it, and she has no idea what it is. But she’s too flustered and needy to care.

“Do you want me or not?”

He nods his head hungrily.

“No condom,” he admits, an amusing sort of terror in his eyes.

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. “Haven’t had a period in almost two years.”

His eyes widen, flickering with confusion for a second. But it’s true. She was pregnant with Fred, then nursing for a little over a year, and shortly after she stopped nursing, the trauma, anguish, and stress on her body had stopped her periods altogether.

He’s distracted by the notion so she sticks her hands in his pants. He makes an entirely unintelligible noise that snaps him right into action. She curls her hand around the hard length of him and his jaw goes slack. He’d nearly forgotten what it _felt_ like to be touched there.

“Get them off,” she says.

He quickly obeys, then hovers over her again. She stares unabashedly at the size of him. And how badly he clearly wants her. She attempts to say something wry and clever. But nothing comes out. He solves this problem by leaning down and kissing her. Then kissing his way down her body, dragging his tongue along her skin when he feels like it. He reaches the waistband of her knickers and drags his tongue from side to side, teasing her. Then he pulls them off. 

Alec grabs onto her thighs and pulls her down to him, trying not to stare. But truly. It’s been _years_. He leans down, head between her legs, until she reaches for him and pulls him back up.

“Not that,” Ellie tells him. It’s too intimate, too soon, and she’s not ready.

He nods, but the disappointment is clear on his face. He slinks back up her body until they’re face to face again. His hand travels up and down the inside of her thigh as he kisses her. It’s positively dizzying.

“All right if I, um…” His hand moves between her legs. “Like this?” 

Ellie nods, kissing him as he palms her, then feels for her clit. She gasps the second he finds it. He smiles. His thumb moves in circles around it.

“Good?”

She nods again, closing her eyes and starting to writhe beneath him. He keeps his eyes on her face as he slips a finger inside her, and off her reaction he begins to rub his erection against her stomach unconsciously.

“Don’t look at me,” she demands. Her eyes are closed but she can _feel_ him staring at her.

With an inaudible sigh, he begins kissing her neck and collarbone instead. She bucks her hips and he slips another finger inside her, causing her to elicit a breathless “_yes_.”

He realizes he’s about to make Ellie Miller come.

Ellie, his former subordinate. Ellie, wife of a murderer. Ellie, whose baby has slept in this bed. The woman who puts him in his place, calls him a knob, and makes sure he eats. The woman whose life fell apart on his watch.

The woman he has tried so hard not to be in love with for the last six months.

_“Yes,” _she says again, and he snaps to it.

“Yes,” he murmurs into her collarbone, feeling the need to repeat the validation.

It’s vulnerable, it’s incredibly vulnerable for Ellie to be this helpless at his hand. To be losing control under his watchful eye. But she’s unraveling, and fast.

“Mmm, mm-hmm,” she murmurs, nodding her head and biting her lip.

He redoubles his efforts on her clit, at the same time moving his lips downward to take her breast into his mouth. She raises her hips and he slips in a third finger, then within seconds she’s crying out, and oh, she’s a vocal little thing. He ought to have guessed.

She doesn’t say his name and he’s admittedly disappointed but cannot be surprised. He has never let her say his actual name, after all. He thinks he sees a tear drift down her cheek after she comes, but she wipes it away so quickly that he cannot be certain.

She’s still panting but he cannot wait any longer. He is positively throbbing, his entire body aching for her.

“Miller,” he says, and it comes out like a desperate groan.

“Oh for god’s sake, do it,” she commands.

He guides himself inside her without hesitation. She’s primed and ready for him so it doesn’t take more than two tries. Despite his best efforts at restraint, he lets out a little cry once he’s fully buried inside her.

“Christ,” he mutters.

She’s got her eyes closed again. “Don’t look at me.”

Alec has had quite enough of _that_ request. “I’m lookin’ at you.”

She opens her eyes. He begins to thrust slowly inside her.

“Can’t not look at you,” he says, and he’s almost bashful about it but he chooses to be honest.

He lowers his upper body down on top of her, covering her body with his warmth. He makes sure her eyes at meeting his when he says it again. “I can’t not look at you.” And then he kisses her. When their lips break apart again, he begins to move more quickly inside her, finding a quick but gentle rhythm. 

He keeps his eyes locked with hers, one hand by her head propping him up. The other hand finds her breast.

Ellie feels terrified all of a sudden. His eyes are boring into hers. She has his complete attention. For the first time in knowing each other, she thinks, she has his complete attention. It’s unnerving.

“Feel good?” He asks gruffly.

She can only nod.

She feels suddenly like she wants to cry. But she can’t. She can’t. She absolutely cannot. But her orgasm has made her raw, all emotions back on the surface, things she hasn’t felt, or let herself feel, in months. So she kisses him instead. If she has to cry at least he won’t see it.

What she doesn’t consider is that this way, he can _feel_ it. The hot tears that run down her cheek he then feels on _his_ cheek. He pulls back.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “Just a bit much.”

He’s frowning, but still moving inside her. “I can stop,” he pants.

They both know he can’t.

“No.” The least she can do now is drive him to distraction. “Do it again.”

He looks at her with question marks in his eyes.

“Make me come again.”

If he’s focused on that, he’ll leave her alone. 

He sits up a bit, lifting her hips with him, and brings his thumb to her clit.

“Yeah,” she says in an exhale. “Oh, yeah.”

Alec then focuses all his effort of trying to make them come at the same time, while she wipes away her tears and focuses all of _her _effort on watching the concentration on his face. 

He doesn’t quite succeed. He comes before she does. The sound of her panting does him in and he has no control over the matter. But he keeps stroking her clit through his own orgasm until she comes too, then collapses on top of her.

When he rolls off of her, she reaches for a throw blanket at the edge of the bed to pull over herself. He looks over at her dubiously.

“I’ve seen you already,” he says.

“And that was enough,” she replies, wrapping the blanket around her body. Then she gets up and exits into the loo.

Alec sighs and rubs his face. He’s barely gotten to come down from his high but she’s already run away from him.

When she returns a few minutes later, she quickly begins getting dressed.

“Miller,” he complains.

“You should call your taxi,” she says, putting her bra back on and clasping it at the back.

“_Now_?”

She pulls on her trousers. “I should get back to the boys.” It’s like she hasn’t even heard him.

It’s the one thing he can’t argue with. She should get back to her boys. He should get back to his daughter.

He sits up and looks for his briefs. But she’s nearly out the door by the time he gets them on. He follows her, half-naked, in the main room of the house, where she’s donning her bright orange jacket.

“Miller, give it a minute, will you?”

She finds her bag and slings it over her shoulder. “Send me a text once in a while." 

He sighs. “…All right.” He reaches for her, but she won’t let him touch her. “You’re really leavin’?”

“No, Hardy,” she says. “_You’re_ really leaving.”

They stand opposite one another awkwardly for a moment. Then she leans forward and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Take care of yourself.”

With one last look, she’s gone.

Alec turns back to the bedroom, his clothes scattering all over the floor. He has brief flashes of her breasts, her lips, her hips, her thighs….then a flash of her saying “you got it wrong”…and her popping up from behind his coffee table shushing him. Of her rocking Fred to sleep. And hitting him in the diner in Sandbrook. And finally a brief flash of her in the box in the courtroom, desperately insisting they did not have an affair.

He collapses down on the bed.

If he texted her, what would he even say?

***

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Find our way back to each other](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271260) by [Cam_elot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cam_elot/pseuds/Cam_elot)


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